


we let our battles choose us

by Clarice Chiara Sorcha (claricechiarasorcha)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Hux's Inadequacy Issues, Kylo Ren Has Issues, M/M, Matt the radar technician - Freeform, Mistaken Identity, No Happy Endings For Anybody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:05:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7512832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claricechiarasorcha/pseuds/Clarice%20Chiara%20Sorcha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux has no idea that Ren plays at being Matt the Radar Technician. Which suits Ren just fine. It's none of the general's damned business.</p>
<p>Except, now it kind of is. And Ren's always been good with mistakes -- or at least, with making them. Over and over and over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we let our battles choose us

**Author's Note:**

> You know, much as the SNL skit amuses me, I always told myself that I was never going to indulge in fic that involved Ren's poor disguise of Matt the Radar Technician. But when all that stuff about Hux's alleged backstory turned up, _this_ terrible idea for a story wedged itself into my brain and wouldn't let go, and...well. Oops. Here we have it, 8k of terrible life choices, as made by characters AND author. And I apologise upfront if it's a bit rough and ready; I'm still trying to get back into the swing of things, and this story just wanted _out_. I should come back and tidy it. But in the meantime...

He had not even realised that the general was planetside. But the ripple through the gathered crew – uncertain, growing, edging towards panic – announced his arrival even more clearly than the tremor in the Force that accompanied Hux everywhere. The general was coming. And everybody knew it.

Ren kept his head bent, lips pressed to hard line as he continued the pretence of his work. Said head was crowned with golden hair, now, slovenly and strange; thick glasses sat heavy upon the bridge of his nose, and his massive frame had been buried within the shapeless hunch of a First Order technician’s uniform. Still his hands closed too tight about his wrench. Those fingers ached already, yearning to reach out, to twist and turn thoughts and purpose elsewhere. That man had no business being outside the base, much less sharing the same space as Ren himself.

But while Ren refused to look up, he could feel the way Hux strode in amongst the rabble of technicians and engineers, voice high and carrying on the still cold air. “What is the delay here?” he demanded. “I need that array online _immediately_.”

As Ren turned at last, he saw no salutes; these particular personnel were not military, only contractors from the civilian populations scattered about First Order space. But they rose all the same, and Ren with them. With hands clenched now at his sides, he looked at last to Hux – but the general remained at a distance, and certainly did not look his way. Ren had never once run into Hux while playing at being Matt. There had been no need for such paths to cross; gathering intelligence of the calibre Hux possessed could be obtained while as himself. What Ren gained by this farce as the radar technician had nothing to do with Hux at all.

The man by now exchanged words with a flustered engineer. By the standards of normal human capabilities, they stood too far away for Ren to actually hear any of it. He also simply didn’t care enough to manipulate the Force to find out what was being said; from the familiar gestures of hand and arm alone, it appeared almost entirely to do with Hux’s ridiculous need for everything to be as he wished it, when he wished it.

But Hux’s next words were loud enough for what felt the entire _base_ to hear. “What use are you to me, then?” Now Ren looked closer, frowning; Hux had moved on to pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed above a nearly lipless mouth. They opened the precise moment he moved, stalking close to where Ren himself lingered yet. Already he was stripping off his greatcoat, and then his hat, thrusting them both at the unfortunate officer hovering closest by his side.

“Get me a toolbelt,” he said, clipped and furious, not once looking to the poor woman he’d already shouted into instinctive recoil. “I’ll look at it myself.”

The engineer didn’t delegate even such a menial task; barely had Hux finished before she was scurrying away, probably glad to flee the scene of what had looked to be the beginnings of mass murder. Yet the officer at Hux’s side seemed oblivious to the thrumming danger, if his incredulous words were any indication.

“You can’t mean you’re going up _there_.”

Hux’s frown was more dire a sight than black stormclouds massing upon some distant horizon. “What?”

“I…sir.” The unfortunate officer straightened to admiral attention, even though he’d gone white. “Sir, I just…”

“Lieutenant Mitaka.” And he spoke with the voice that had launched a thousand starships, and then more; Hux found no satisfaction in a job half-done. His eyes glittered like cold veins of cut adamantine as he added, almost idle in his distaste, “Are _you_ going to go up there and bring the array back online?”

“I – no, sir.”

“Then shut up.”

Ren frowned, though not at Hux’s uncharacteristic shortness with his staff. He didn’t even know what the lieutenant was _doing_ down on Starkiller; the distinction between the base and the star destroyer was well-defined in all aspects, including staff assignation. But then, Mitaka did appear to often trail the general about his ship, as if he were one of his personal staff. Certainly he had brought Ren messages more than once. But then, Ren so rarely paid attention to the actual petty pecking order of the military ranks and their stellate arrangement between commands.

Somehow it irritated him now: to see that strange little creature, dejected as he was, keeping close behind his general as Hux manoeuvred himself for a better view of the offending equipment. From the look in his eyes, it was as if Hux expected it to cower, to capitulate to his will simply by his glare alone. Ren was almost surprised that it didn’t. If Hux had had the Force in the way Ren himself did, it might actually have just exploded.

Ren had almost decided to give the entire structure a small push with his mind, just to see if it would make Hux startle, when fortunately the engineer returned. Hux took the extended belt without comment, clipping it about his waist with deft insouciance; Ren blinked, faintly perturbed. He’d always known the man was a narrow little thing, but the action only nearly proved the hypothesis that Ren could close both his hands around the general’s waist. Hux, for his part, merely readjusted his gloves as he looked upward one last time.

“I need a technician.” At the unhappy start of the engineer, he waved one imperious hand, not even looking to her fraught frame; already those cold eyes raked over the assorted crew around her. “No, not _you_ ; you’re useless. Someone with decent reach, I should think. I – what do _you_ do?”

Ren blinked. “What?”

“Your _specialisation_.” The words managed to be somehow indifferent and withering alike. Hux always had been too talented with his tongue. “Well, what is it?”

“Radar.”

His snort, perfectly disdainful, masked not the perfect intonation of his word. “How useful,” he said, already turning away. “Follow me.”

The ladder stretched above them, dizzying in its height as Ren followed Hux into the cage at its base. He had absolutely no idea why the damn thing didn’t have an elevator run on hydraulics, or one that drew power from the vast geothermic power stations beneath the crust. Yet Hux showed no concern over the thought of such physical exertion. In fact, as Ren stared in distaste at the ladder, the general had already ascended some fair distance.

With his own hands tight about the first rung, Ren pushed up and away. It could not help but be faintly claustrophobic, though Ren had never had any particular aversion to small spaces or to heights. That could be but a fortunate thing, considering this particular antenna thrust high, needing to be free of interference from the brooding mountains either side of this particular valley.

Pursing his lips, Ren glanced up. Instead of the end goal, he saw only a small, neat behind, outlined in the lines of his uniform as Hux climbed with admirable quick grace. His lips downturned to grimace, Ren looked to his hands, and kept them there the rest of the silent climb upwards.

At the head of the antenna array, Ren hauled himself up onto a surprisingly large platform, dominated though it was by various apparatuses he had no names for. Instead, he squinted out to the view; the tundra lay in long white lines far below, the personnel but dark small insects upon its smooth surface.

With a faint frown, Ren raised his eyes to find a sky free of all cloud. The cold, clear air came almost a shock to his lungs after the endless recycled air upon the _Finalizer_ , the heated too-dry air of Starkiller’s sprawling underground complexes. It shouldn’t have been any different up here than down below – and yet, somehow it was. Drawing one deep breath could not be enough. He took another. And then, yet another. The taste of something undefinable tingled upon his tongue, still out of his reach for all he now stood so very high.

“Enjoying yourself, technician?”

Hux’s face bore the hallmarks of a man teetering very close to the end of his already limited patience. Ren frowned, shook his head. “I – yes. I suppose so.”

“We’re here to work.”

He blinked. “Yeah.”

The narrowed eyes could not help but remind Ren of vibroblades, and the guttering screams that might follow their skilled use. “I do realise you are not one of my soldiers,” Hux drawled, pulling at the wrists of his gloves, “but it is customary to refer to a general as at least _sir_.”

“It is?”

Again Hux snorted, already with his attention upon the task before him. “You had better be good at this.”

Ren was not good at this. He did have an _idea_ of such matters, being the son of a man who refused to allow anyone but himself or his first mate to attend to the many needs of an increasingly ancient ship. But he didn’t need to have any skill at this occupation. Matt was a technician rarely required to do anything highly skilled or important. Snoke had set him to this task for reasons of observation, not technical training.

But Hux had already set about opening what appeared to Ren to be a random panel. Even as he chose to lean back against one of the flimsy railings, Ren frowned; it seemed odd to him, that Hux had made no particular effort to clip himself to a safety harness. The general had always struck him as the type to obey rules, unless there was some particularly nefarious reason not to. Hux’s own frown turned dire as he slammed it closed, moved on.

Ren still had no idea what the problem was, or why Hux wanted it solved so badly he’d resort to doing it himself. Even as he assured himself that he didn’t care, Ren found himself reaching out, indulging in a light touch of minds. While Hux tended to be hyperaware of such contact anyway, his thoughts often proved to be well-shielded in a manner that confused Ren. Some of it could be put down to the natural order of his rigid mind, but even so: Ren had long harboured the bitter suspicion that perhaps Snoke _had_ taught him something of psychic defence.

But here, Ren was only Matt. The general would have no need to consciously mask himself from the tender mercies of one Kylo Ren. In that, Ren found the man’s mind remarkably open. Such a tender brush of minds yielded nothing of any real depth, though that came as no surprise. There had only been one other person whose mind he’d known that could compartmentalise with quite such skill, and she’d risen even higher in the ranks than this man. But for now, Hux’s mind remained thoughtfully analytic, running through mental diagnostics at a speed almost dizzying. And Ren winced, almost looked away from the sudden brightness of his thoughts, for all it was not something seen with mere eyes.

“Come over here.” And Hux waved out one hand; for a strange second, Ren thought he actually meant Matt to take it. “Hurry up, I need you.”

As he drew close, Hux had already returned both hands to the task he’d set himself, kneeling upon the harsh grating of the platform. And Ren frowned deeper yet; Hux had never seemed so unexpected, so alien. And yet – his deft hands, the furrowed brow. There was a stranger familiarity in that, in seeing the easy knowledge so carefully channelled to perfect useful action.

And it seemed as though his own incredulous thought blurted itself out into the open. “Is _this_ what you actually do all day?”

The long lean line of his back stiffened. When Hux turned, it was too slow a motion by half. And there he stopped, halfway angled towards _Matt_ and not _Kylo Ren_ , the latter of whom might have gotten away with such ham-fisted observation. For the first time Ren noticed that the other man’s hair had been disarrayed by the wind, and the exertion of climbing. And beneath that rich red colour, his eyes had turned a strange shade of half-way green.

“Is that any concern of yours?”

He sounded almost conversational. Ren was under no delusions as to what that indicated about the general’s actual mood. It still didn’t stop him from saying, “Up here, yeah. I guess it is.”

His eyes darkened, even as he rolled them skyward. “Just make yourself useful,” Hux said, already pulling out some sort of oddly-constructed screwdriver from the belt. “I need the auxiliary power rediverted through that circuit so I can lever out this reverb connector.”

Ren had absolutely no idea what Hux was talking about. But, with but a flick of the Force, he could see it: schematics, methods, details, all arrayed in orderly fashion within Hux’s mind. With such clear instruction laid open before him, Ren found the task easy enough to do. Hux, wrist deep in his own work, glanced up at the precise moment he finished; Ren could see he was pleased, though he scarcely displayed it on his taut features.

_Would it kill you to smile?_

But Ren found he could keep that thought to himself, at least; Hux might have felt charitable towards the awkward technician now, but Ren knew the man’s mood could turn sour on a moment. Instead, he waited with odd patience for Hux’s next request. Such tasks could be little but simple when he took their execution from Hux’s mind, completing each within moments of Hux’s request.

A humming startled him, head jerking upwards to where the array had lit up once more. For his own part Hux sat back on his perfectly polished heels, and raked a hand through his hair – which lay now utterly in ruin, compared to its usual perfect coiffure. Ren could not stop staring. Perhaps it was just the light, strange and long and deep up so high. But he’d never realised how remarkable the colour actually was.

“Technician?” A moment later, and quiet considerably louder, “ _Technician_!”

“I – what?” And then, quite before he realised he planned on saying anything of the sort, “Sir?”

Hux cast his eyes skyward, again – and Ren could not help but recognise the fact it was far more an innocuous gesture than the thousands of times he’d seen it before. “We’re done here,” he said, very crisp. It almost sounded like an afterthought when he added, “What’s your name?”

“Matt.”

“ _Matt_.” Hux rolled it around his mouth, teased it with his tongue; that Imperial accent of his was not quite like that of the old days of the Empire. But then, the First Order had become something far different indeed. Something far _greater_ , even, if the way Hux strutted about his ship was any indication to go by.

“Matt,” he repeated, and raised a languid eyebrow. “Good work.”

Praise had never come easily to Kylo Ren. Even this lazy excuse at it, genuine as it felt, left him still, and silent. Hux had already turned, slipping back into the ladder to make his way back down.

His own daze, Ren suspected, probably rendered it unsafe for him to do the same. He still followed but a moment later. And yet, even as Ren looked down the whole way, Hux never once looked up. It at least crystallised his unease into faint disgust. While the jumpsuit was hardly flattering, the angle at which he descended still provided a decent enough view. Hux should have taken it. But as far as Ren was concerned, the man had never had his priorities straight.

When he reached the bottom, he found Hux already stripping off the belt, sliding back into the coat. As the stupid little hat closed down tight over the frenzy of his hair, a faint tightening in his chest had Ren turning back to his own work, cheeks tainted by an odd high flush that had little to do with the ambient temperature of Starkiller base.

“Technician.”

He wanted nothing more than to never look at Hux again. But Matt could not defy the general in the manner of Kylo Ren. “Sir?”

And his reward proved to be but a faint smile, the general’s ubiquitous datapad already between gloved hands once more. “Skill is always rewarded, in the Order.”

A moment later and he moved away, greatcoat fluttering about the lean calves in their rich leather. The gormless lieutenant gave Ren – gave _Matt_ – the oddest look, and then turned to scuttle after him ahead of the rest of the man’s apparent entourage.

“So, the general didn’t want to throttle you up there?” His colleague’s voice was an incredulous, irritated thing at his back. “I thought for sure he would’ve punted you off that antenna the moment he realised how useless you are.”

Hunched forward now, Ren kept Matt’s silence, already turning back to his original work. He had come here, in this guise, at the orders of his Master. There was still intelligence yet to retrieve.

And he would do so with skill far beyond what such small minds could ever hope to understand.

 

*****

 

Ren had expected Hux to never think of Matt again. And yet, a mere half-cycle later, the technician had been summoned to the general’s quarters and set to task. Hux barely spoke to him – barely looked at him, even. And yet, more and more often after that, the general would summon his aid, and his alone.

It happened only on Starkiller. Matt had after all never been based on the _Finalizer_. But Hux, for all high command required his tactical prowess upon the star destroyer and amongst the greater fleet, had been spending more and more time on-base as deadlines drew close and tempers grew shorter still.

He did have to wonder if it had anything to do with the fact that Kylo Ren only very rarely came down. As himself, he’d barely seen the general at all. He found he could not complain. Hux always proved much more fascinating when seen through the lenses of oversized glasses, than through the holoview distortion of a warrior’s helm.

Today, Matt had been called to complete a simple enough task. Even with his tendencies towards micromanagement, Hux had no reason to stay beyond issuing his orders; certainly Ren never needed him to, once he’d plucked the details of the required repair from Hux’s oddly obliging mind. But he had. He always did. And Ren worked in utter silence, only enhanced by the lack of movement beyond the closed doors. This small and out of the way observation deck received few visitors. And even Ren knew that not only could Hux have made the repair himself, but also that it was no accidental break. Not here. And not like this.

When he was done, he looked back, found Hux watchful and silent. Questions such as those that moved in his mind should not be asked of a general, and Ren knew it. But even now, dressed in the drab jumpsuit and bright vest of a technician rather than the hulking robes of a Master Knight, Ren spoke the words aloud, careless and curious both.

“Why do you keep asking for me?”

He’d seen the general lose his temper with subordinates. He’d seen the general lose his temper with equals. But even as he waited to see which Matt would now prove to be, the general only tilted his head, rich sunlight glinting on the bright blaze of his hair.

_Because you do exactly what I say_.

Hux didn’t speak those words aloud, but Ren heard them as if whispered into his own ear. And he shivered, imagining the warmth of breath, the humming resonance of a lifeforce pressed too near to his own. Unquestioning, unrelenting, unapologetic _competence_ – of course _that_ would be the rigid man’s fetish.

And still Hux remained motionless, staring, unblinking in his near-reptilian regard. Ren still had not quite decided on the colour of those eyes, but today they had rendered themselves very, very blue. The sky had been the same, that day up on the antenna: brilliant and open and encompassing, spread out all around them both. There, they’d been as if utterly alone, atop the world – or at least, Hux’s beloved Starkiller. His bare fingers had moved then upon the array as if ghosting gently over an unpulled trigger.

How Ren wanted him to pull it now.

“You are very good at following orders,” the general said, sudden and sharp. Ren nodded, did not look away.

“Yes.”

“So what would you do,” Hux said, slow and deliberate, “if I asked you to suck my cock?”

“Well,” and his tongue slipped out, over his lips. “I guess I would suck your cock.”

Without another word Hux turned, almost glided back to the doors. Ren swallowed, heart dreadfully out of time with the beat of each languid step. Swift fingers keyed the code; the panel flashed, crimson warning of a high security override. Back across the room, Hux passed him by, pausing only before the great half-circle of transparisteel before him. There, he turned, arms folded, hips leaned against the console. Starkiller lay behind him, half-hidden beneath pure snow and mountainous rise and fall. The distant sun, encouraged by the brilliance of his red hair, lovingly granted him blazing golden halo.

“Well?”

His throat had turned dry, traitorously leaving him without any means of speaking his tangled thoughts aloud. But that was no matter to Kylo Ren, even if he knew already that this could be only a terrible mistake. Yet, to Matt, it would prove no different to any other task Hux had ever set before him. It instead was almost too easy: to look into his mind, to see exactly how Hux wished this to be.

Without a word Ren removed Matt’s glasses, slid their folded weight into one of the vest’s deep pockets. Hux’s head, still crowned in the brilliance of his sunlight-dappled hair, tilted; a moment more, and Ren went down upon his knees before splaying his fingers across the floor. There, he moved at last, crawling across the room with dark eyes up: unblinking, staring.

Only when he had reached the casual curl of Hux’s boots did he rise again, sitting back upon his own heels. Never once breaking the deadlock of their matched gazes, Ren moved his hands to the smooth leather of Hux’s belt. Unclipping the ridiculous buckle, he slipped it from that obscenely narrow waist, and set it aside with a reverence that had Hux’s throat moving in silent swallow.

Beneath callused fingers the jacket came undone, and his trousers, unbuttoned. There, Ren felt the first blossom of true surprise: the general wore no underwear. Even as his eyes flicked down to confirm what his fingertips already knew, he felt a flash of laser-sharp knowledge loosed from the general’s roiling mind: this was not his usual habit. He had come here wanting to have Matt the radar technician’s sinful mouth around his bare cock.

And Hux was nothing if not an entirely efficient individual focused on end goals and their rapid achievement.

Ren didn’t bother hiding the lopsided grin Matt now wore as they both looked up to Hux, and found the general’s pale cheekbones now taking on a lovely high flush. In answer, Ren hooked fingers in loosened waistband, gently pulling until the trousers lay open and halfway down his narrow thighs. Only then did he give into temptation, pressing open palms to cool skin as he slid them around, stopping only when he cupped that small tight arse.

And the strange smile grew odder yet, at the memory of it: how it had taunted him all the way up the damned antenna. Pressing harder, his own groin tightened at the thought of his handprints painted upon such a canvas, perfect reddened impression against what could only be soft white skin. Tightening his grip, he watched as Hux’s gaze skipped, stuttered, focused on his again. Ren’s fingers had met now, at the crease. Even as he gentled him apart, one finger just ghosting over a furl of soft tight muscle, Ren flicked his tongue out, and tasted the very tip of the general’s exposed cock.

One great shudder rocked his body entire, as if some pulse charge had been set deep and low in his very centre; shivers like aftershocks followed. Such perfect strike would soon enough shake him all to pieces. Ren turned his head, eyes still upon the blue-black gleam of Hux’s own as he took the cockhead into his mouth.

Given the hissing breath, drawn in sharp between gritted teeth, Ren did not need to look to the turmoil of Hux’s thoughts to know that it had been some time for the general. It had been longer still, for Ren himself; as a Knight of Ren, he rarely indulged in such personal interaction, let alone in acts that could be regarded as debasement of the self. But the hunger in him now had become a ravenous thing, in the way Ren would take a wound to his own body and twist a fist against it just to sharpen the agony. But this – this was desperation to see what _Hux_ would look like when come undone, and fallen all to pieces.

One hand rose, fingertips fluttering just at the root of the now entirely hard cock, brushing over the tidy fuzz of the hair that proved even deeper in colour than that upon his head. Hux’s hands, now braced upon the console, twitched even as he bent forward. But he did not touch Matt. Ren bit down on the desire to ask for what neither of them could have, and instead pushed forward, tongue bitter with the taste of precome and the faint musk of the general himself. Back, forward, and back again – and then he pulled almost completely away, let the flared head of his cock rest on his pursed lips. There, with his eyes fixed only open Hux’s own, he coyly flicked his tongue into the weeping slit.

“ _Matt_ ,” and then Hux’s eyes were closed, head thrown back, throat in convulsion as he came in warm spurt over his face, neck. Ren’s instinct told him to close his own eyes. He stared still, watchful and reverent from upon his knees. And when Hux glanced blearily down, he caught a flash of how he looked to the general; dark eyes, wide and open, face tilted upward in perfect obedient calm, his own come dripping from lower lip and onto the garish orange of that damned vest.

“Your cock.” Hux’s hand moved to his throat, pressed there without his even seeming aware of it; he spoke in hoarse whisper, as though he’d been the person with one so recently down his throat. Matt raised only an eyebrow in return, earned himself a scoffing laugh. Hux sounded something far closer to his usual demanding self when he at last added, “I want to see your cock.”

Again, Ren found it so very easy to pluck the shape of Hux’s desire even from such roiling thoughts. Raising his hands, he undid the vest without the faintest hint of timidity, discarding it to one side in careless heap. Shrugging the jumpsuit from his shoulders, he revealed he wore no undershirt beneath. Such action brought forth a faint gasp, and Ren did not hide his grin at the hunger in Hux’s eyes as they broke from his own, raking down the defined planes of chest and abdomen. And there they lingered upon what little one might see of his cock, already risen beneath the plain fabric of standard issue undershorts. Pressing the band down, under his balls, Ren took a slow breath as his hand wrapped around its thickening girth.

“Wait.” That imperious tone, heard so often on the parade ground, upon his beloved bridge, had returned; Ren had never thought to feel the high carry of it pulse within his hardening dick. And one hand had risen now, halting Ren utterly even as the general stripped its glove away.

A second later, and Hux spat into his bared hand. In his own, Ren’s cock twitched at such vulgar display from the conscientious general. But he had little time to consider it, not when Hux held his hand out. It was as a votive offering, though from god to penitent rather than the more traditional other way around.

Ren knew that Hux wanted Matt to take it with long fingers, dragged over the sensitive rough skin of the palms that so often were victim to Hux’s nervous tics. But in this, Ren did not obey the blazing signpost of Hux’s thoughts. Instead he leaned forward, and traced his tongue along the trembling palm. With them mingled in his mouth, Ren spat into his own hand, and only then wrapped it around his cock.

Beneath the hot gaze of the general above, Ren began to move. He had little finesse in such matters; when he bothered to do this for his own satisfaction, he was seeking only a quick end, a brief flash of physical pleasure to sate unavoidable biological need. But as he jacked, quick and hard, he sensed no disapproval from Hux. The man never once looked away, his lips curling slightly as Ren half-choked, came sudden and hot over a hand that moved him rough and hard through the drawn out seconds of pure climax. Only then did Hux’s eyes slip closed, and Ren saw clearly that his own cock had grown half-hard again.

“Good work, technician,” he murmured, almost too quiet. And with his hand still loose about his dick, Ren swallowed, held his chin high.

“Yes,” he said, and then, just because he couldn’t not, “Sir.”

Hux shivered, and the lovely length of his cock shifted with renewed interest between those long white thighs. But even as Ren yearned to move forward again, to take him deeper still, Hux drew his glove back on. Only then did he pull his trousers up over slim hips, refastening the jacket before smoothing it back to some semblance of order. But the loss of his belt had him frowning. His gaze turned odd, almost dark, to find Ren holding it out.

“Will I?” he asked, and he did not need Hux’s reply to be spoken aloud.

“Yes,” he said, very faint, as Ren carefully set it about his waist, trailing his fingers over the closed buckle. And his eyes slipped closed, lips twisted to a frown even as he said, again, “ _Yes_.”

He made his exit moments later, leaving Ren alone, half-naked on his knees upon the cold floor. He kept his eyes on the vast cold plains of Starkiller as he rose, hands already moving to return the façade of Matt to some sort of order. Ren had made a mistake. A terrible mistake. It should never have gone so far.

But he didn’t button up the jumpsuit after all. His hand had already closed around his cock again.

In the greater scheme of life amongst the Order, their continued liaisons did not happen often. But still, they happened enough. The third time, Hux’s hands brought him up from the floor, turning Ren until he braced himself against the panels before him. Slick fingers pushed into his ass, their clear intent that this be only the beginning of their encounter. Ren should have stopped it right there – all of it. Instead he let Hux in. Instead Ren allowed himself to be fucked over the inexplicably damaged console, biting back a half-hysterical laugh that Hux would cause such damage to his own equipment, when but earlier that week he’d bawled out Kylo Ren for just the same thing.

But only Matt would ever be called to set about Hux’s repairs.

Ren had told himself that he’d lost count of their encounters – he hadn’t, no more than Hux had – when he was been called to Hux during the delta shift. Given it now meandered towards its end, the light beyond the transparisteel viewport had turned long, and longing both; it lingered over Hux’s head, his hair transformed to gold-burnished copper.

It came almost as a relief when Hux indicated the issue was beneath one of the consoles. Never once had their encounters not been preceded by some repair, even when they both knew what was broken here was not something either of them could fix.

Here he knelt, shoulders wedged uncomfortably in the narrow space. Even as he swore briefly at an awkward angle, wondering if Hux would have any clue if he worked the jammed bolt out with a flick of the Force, the man’s voice drifted down, abrupt in its sudden demand.

“Do you enjoy your work, Matt?”

Brows furrowed as he shrugged – and promptly smacked his head on the low ceiling of the console. This time, when he swore, it was far louder and more creative. Hux’s faint laughter held an incredulous bent as Ren backed out, one hand pressed to his head as he blinked up into the other man’s face.

“Mostly,” he said. And then, “I guess.”

One gloved hand moved out, smoothed light over the rising bump at the back of his head. Even such casual touch felt to be more effective than his own limited abilities with Force healing. “Be more careful, would you?” Hux said, and for all it sounded utterly careless, the next words tumbled from Matt’s tongue.

“Do you enjoy yours?”

Hux frowned, hands already folded again – though before chest now, rather than in his preferred parade stance. “My what?”

“Your work.”

His unspoken thoughts cast dark shadow over his features. “It is what I was born to be.”

It was no real answer. Ren would not have expected one from the man. Matt, on the other hand, could not keep his mouth shut. “So you’d want to be something other than the general?”

Scoffing, mouth set in cold line, Hux looked away to the frozen landscape that so enclosed them both. “No. I am what I am.”

One callused hand moved forward, fingers curling about his jaw, turning him back. For all Hux turned stiff and tense, his skin felt as powdered snow to Matt’s touch; soft, light, and so very cold. And given his stillness, Hux might have become a body left out in the valley, though one not yet frozen through. “Your hair,” Ren said, low and husky. Even as he did move back, Hux’s eyebrows folded together, too pale by half.

“What?”

“It burns like starfire.”

And now he did draw back, generous lips in sudden grimace. “Matt—”

“My mother was a lot higher born than my father.” He paused, startled by his own words – but Hux was even more so, eyes wide in a way that reminded Ren of distant dreams of childhood, of dark rooms and their darker corners. And that alone had him speaking, again. “I don’t exaggerate. _Very_ much higher born.”

Hux had no reply to offer, save for the haunted stillness of those slightly widened eyes. And even with Hux’s strange mental openness around Matt, Ren could find no real idea of what Hux understood about the origins of Kylo Ren. Certainly, the general had never been _told_ of them. But what the man could ferret out was his own business. The bone deep weariness of it all hit Ren low, and hard. The wig and glasses were perhaps not so heavy as the damned helmet, but still they rendered the man behind them just as masked.

“We’re maybe not that different.”

Saying say aloud was a mistake – but in the end, it could be nothing more than just another one, in an increasingly long line of them. With a curl of his lips, humourless and strange, Hux let it go on.

 “But you obviously kept to your father’s path, rather than hers. Took his trade, even?” Yet Hux waited for no answer, eyes downturned to his hands; even his tailored gloves could not hide the nervous twitch of his long fingers. “You took the lesser road to my higher one, perhaps,” he said, too quiet. “It may be that you were the luckier of the two of us.”

“But you don’t regret becoming the general.”

“I _am_ the general.” But his eyes had skipped away, towards the door, as if the faint uncertainty of those words had been directed only at himself. “I need to go.”

Hux did not move. Still at his side, still far too close, Ren curled his hands to fists. “You don’t need my permission for that,” he said, very low, almost wondering. And Hux laughed, a short bark across what little space remained between them.

“No.” He did not look away from the door. Yet he did not approach it. “No, I don’t.”

“But you’re still here.” And then, too quick, too sudden, “It’s because you didn’t get what you wanted.”

And Hux turned then, eyes dark, voice the low warning siren that preceded fingers closed over triggers. “Careful, Matt,” he hissed, and Ren blinked. But it was Matt who opened his arms, wide and simple.

“Why?” he asked, and it hurt. That could not stop him from doing so. “General, I’m offering it. Whatever you want. You can have it.”

His gaze ducked away; never had Ren seen the general hunch his shoulders forward in such a manner, his voice half-muffled by the way his chin descended into the high press of his uniform collar. “You just don’t understand.”

“But I do.” He spoke boldly now. Maybe too bold. But when he cupped Hux’s chin, pressing it up, he found writ upon his features only weary irritation. The long blue gaze, saber-bright and soft, hummed in strange resonance with the quickening beat of his own heart.

“Matt—”

They had never kissed before. This first one lasted but a moment, their lips motionless, the brief press something dreadfully close to chaste. Ren pulled back first, while Hux did not pull back at all; as the general leaned into Matt’s touch, he trailed his thumb upward, rubbing over the arch of one red-gold eyebrow. Beneath it, Hux’s gaze never once left his own. Kylo Ren had stared death in the face more times that he would ever remember. But there was something different entirely, in this blind leap of faith into a battle that could only end in death and defeat.

And then: Hux kissed him back, gloved hands about his jaw and throat, lips insistent, tongue darting out to press at the seam of his own lips; it demanded entry as if Matt’s mouth were but a citadel he would take by siege tactics alone. And Matt swelled upward, pushing him back even as Hux pulled them both down. On the floor, in a tangle of limbs, they stretched out even as they curled around one another. It was hardly elegant, or hardly appropriate. But there was nothing elegant or appropriate about the general now, pulling back in wild-eyed flush, his voice too high to be truly commanding.

“Why did you do that?”

From his position flat on his back, Ren only shrugged. “Because you wanted it.”

A war fought itself there before Ren, its battlefield displayed clear upon the planes of his still face. Then, Hux was upon him as if this was the chosen place of his very last stand. Clever hands moved down, scrabbling at his belt. Ren echoed the motion, already beginning to wriggle his ungainly way out of the vest. A sound of disgust from the general, and Hux was pulling back, pushing to his feet. With calculated haste he shed jacket, boots, trousers, _socks_ ; only when down to his barest undergarments, did he stop. For his part, Ren had paused in his own motions long before, unable to look away. Not even Matt had before seen the general so very bare.

But Hux allowed him no time for idle contemplation. Already Hux was upon him, insistent until Ren took a step back, stripping away all extraneous clothing until he wore only his loose underwear. With a sharp hand on one shoulder, Hux pushed him down to his knees, and then onto his back. His hand moved low even as his breath beat hot and stuttering against the hollow of Ren’s long throat.

With eyes now fixed upon Ren’s own, Hux trailed fingers across the sharp stutter of his abdomen. And his smile turned devilish as his palm pressed light to the sensitive inner thigh. Ren hardly had time enough to savour such rich sensation, before Hux deftly worked his hard cock out just through the wide leg. One thumb circled over the head, Ren’s breath coming hard and gasping. But even as he turned his head, desperately seeking the cruel curve of Hux’s smirking lips, the man slithered down and away until he enveloped the crown between pale lips.

Ren’s head slammed back. The floor offered no gentle cradle, only a white out second of purest pleasure, and of pain. He didn’t care. _The general was sucking his dick_. And quite cleverly, too – he did so with clear experience. Those quick hands moved under his ass, pressing up so Hux could swallow him deeper; Ren’s own could not help but follow them down. As one hand came about his head, Hux tensed beneath it, even as his lips and tongue worked still about his dick. But Ren’s fingers did not tangle in that too-lovely hair. Instead he stroked, then fell to cradling. It was too gentle. It was yet another mistake. But Hux appeared far too engrossed in his work to notice, and Ren could not stop him now.

He did not stop him even when Hux set to rolling him over. But he could not protest such treatment, not with Hux’s hands carefully manoeuvring them both, lips drawing back just long enough to work his shorts down and off. Now utterly naked before him, Ren balanced upon his forearms, staring down into eyes yet hazy, void-dark with lust and longing. Like a black hole they beckoned him in, even as they in turn could promise him only endless fall, and then the nothing beyond.

Moving back, hands gliding down the lean sides, Ren slid Hux’s underwear down a tremble of thighs. It was too easy then to lower his head, sucking him deep for but a moment, drawing away so he might pull them off entirely. And then, he stopped – it seemed as though time itself had stopped, now that Hux lay naked on his back before him, the cold floor of Starkiller dark shadow beneath the white of bared skin.

But Hux gave him no mercy. With a faint curl of lips he rolled over, deliberate and slow. His ass, curved up with the movement of hips, lay presented before Ren with casual command. Mouth dry, leaning forward, Ren needed no instruction as to Hux’s desires here. Gentling the smooth curves apart, he bent his head to clear task; first with his tongue, and then damp lips, he sought out the tight furl of what was likely not a virgin ass – but certainly felt to be one all the same.

When he reached around, he found Hux’s cock hard and leaking; with that slick, he began to work him higher still, tongue deep in the warm clench of his ass. Moaning, Hux chose now to rise up, pushing back so Ren’s face was all but buried. And then he turned around, face flushed and mouth gasping, left hand scrabbling for Matt’s vest, and the vial of oil the technician never came to Hux without. But this time, when he had coated his fingers with liberal indifference, Hux did not reach for Matt. Instead, with those strange blue-green eyes upon him, Hux moved them behind, moved them _inside_. On his knees, Ren could not see what happened – but Hux’s expressions were more telling than even the most pornographic details of some erotic holovid. Then he was pushing him back, one knee rising, straddling the broad chest. Splaying his fingers there, hair hanging in his eyes, forehead damp with sweat – Hux looked straight into his eyes, and smiled.

“Inside,” he whispered. Ren saw what wanted. It mirrored so exactly his own crystallised desire that he could not imagine it any other way. One hand moved between them, took his cock in slick grip, and then, guided it to match Hux’s own movement. And now, with head thrown back, Hux took the obscene length of him in one slow insane slide.

Only when they had come completely together did Ren’s hands move, cradling those small hips. Hux moved free a second later; rocking, riding him to completion. Ren did not complain. He could think of no reason to, not when Hux had bared himself so utterly, had taken him so very deep.

_Not you. This is for Matt. He does this only for **Matt**_.

But even the truth could not penetrate this perfect little lie, not now. Not with Hux’s nails digging deep into _his_ chest, carving rivulets of reddened skin that prickled with tiny beads of blood, stinging with the salt of shared sweat. Not with Hux, tight around his cock as his own pulsed, his eyes clenched tight and his hair shimmering gold in the last of Starkiller’s afternoon light. And he collapsed upon him, allowing his cock to fall free as Hux pressed a kiss to the hard beat of the pulse below his jaw.

“Skill is always rewarded,” he said, closing a knowing hand about his dick. “In the Order.”

After, when Ren had come with a shout that left him hoarse and hurting, it became very silent. The lights remained off, but the approach of early evening had turned the light grey, darkening with every passing moment. In the deepest shadows, laid upon the floor, Hux spoke first.

“This needs to stop.”

Matt would not have agreed. But it was Ren who spoke now. “I’m being transferred.”

Tense again, at his side, Hux sat up; even in the gloom, his eyes burned preternaturally bright. “I knew of no such transfer.”

He should have satisfied him, to think of the great grand General Hux stalking a lowly technician. Instead it engendered only pity.

And something too terribly close to regret.

“I only just decided,” he said, and for all he wished he could look away, he could not take his gaze from Hux’s own. It had shuttered itself away now, colour now a shade of grey utterly at odds with the brilliance Ren had previously known.

_That **Matt** had known._

“Did you now,” he said, too flat. And Ren shook his head, and at last looked away.

“It’s what you wanted.”

Hux’s hand came down quick, fingers bruise-tight around his chin as he yanked Ren’s attention right back. “Don’t tell me what I want.”

“Well.” His own hand rose, fingers closed gently about the bare wrist. And Hux did not pull back, not even as Ren gently pushed his hand down. “Maybe none of us know what we truly want.”

With a choked sound Hux turned away – _walked_ away. And Ren levered himself upward, his body a topographical map of pleasure utterly at odds with the bone-deep ache beneath the bruised and bleeding skin.

“Do you want to do this again?”

Hux did not turn around. “More than anything.”

“And will you?”

He hunched forward, and Ren knew his eyes were tightly clenched shut. “ _No_.”

“Then I’ll transfer.” Only by reaching for his discarded jumpsuit could he mask the tremor of his hands. “I can’t stand the thought of looking at you. Knowing I can’t have you.”

And Hux turned from the viewport, his features a study in dark despair. “ _Matt_.”

The thought, spoken before mental filters could trap it deep, escaped. “Your hair…”

“Stop it.”

“It’s like fire—”

Hux was upon him again then: kissing and claiming, furious as he was; long fingers closed about his hip, those of the other hand already working him open. Ren closed his eyes, and surrendered to a battle lost before it had even begun. It didn’t matter, not now. One more mistake, and then Matt would transfer. Matt would never have to see Hux again, and know what he had lost.

Kylo Ren would be a different story altogether.

 

*****

 

Snoke called him out to a mission on the very day Matt left Starkiller. Ren chose not to think on whether or not his Master had any idea of what had transpired between his co-commanders. Instead he bitterly supposed the general could just be glad for the respite, the window in which to mourn in peace. Ren, alone in the passenger compartment of his Upsilon, would in turn have his own time enough to forget.

When he returned, he could not find Hux onboard the _Finalizer_. But Ren himself had no real reason to go down to Starkiller. The passage of cycle after cycle instead became a maddening thing, each ending with no request from Hux for any explanation of Ren’s mission and the headaches he would no doubt have acquired due to Ren’s careless use of First Order resources.

It therefore came as a distinct surprise when he went to the bridge one early cycle and noticed Hux standing at its head, gazing out upon his work. There was no conceivable need for it, and certainly no excuse – but still Ren crossed the floor until he stood at the man’s side, before the great viewport and the long body of the starship arrowing into the black. Ren remained very still, eyes upon Hux alone. After long moments, the air growing heavy and electric between them, Hux slowly turned. Though clearly perplexed, it was irritation lurking just beneath that dominated his words.

“Why are you staring me like that?”

“Your hair.” And terrible mistakes always _had_ been his specialisation. “It’s the colour of crimson starfire.”

Hux stilled. The charge of the space between them crackled with fierce sudden energy, the hairs on the back of Ren’s neck rising even beneath the high collar, and the helm above.

“ _What_ did you just say?”

The general’s face had gone white as Starkiller’s snow, laid thick over the cruel machinery that turned deep and relentless beneath its innocuous surface; with the wide eyes and clenched fists to match, Ren knew Hux’s anger to be directed at the perceived intrusion. But, stronger than that: Ren knew the man’s _shame_. Shame, at the sudden unexpected memory of Matt. Of the other man, pressed against him, their lips seeking, desperation leaking from every pore like a child’s endless tears. A general and a technician – something that should not be. Something that would not have been, had Hux not been a man so desperate for affection he’d taken it from someone who ought to have been so low beneath his notice as to be utterly invisible.

_(“We’re maybe not that different.”)_

A moment more of that brilliant blinding agonised joy, and – Hux slammed down, pressed back, shoving it all deep into the labyrinthine recesses of that remarkable mind. But even had it not been too late, Ren already knew. Ren had been there. His own agony burned like bright blade lodged deep in his aching chest.

Perhaps that was why he spoke without thought to consequence, the catastrophe that it might summon forth between them. “You don’t have to be ashamed,” he said. “Of the things that you want.”

And it had always been a mistake, for Kylo Ren to believe he deserved anything beautiful. “Well,” Hux replied, his sneer deep and bloodied, “but then I suppose we can’t _all_ be the erstwhile sons of lords and princesses, can we?”

He could say something. He _should_ say something. Already it was too late, Hux sweeping away across the shining glory of his command bridge as if he’d won this round. Ren watched him go, and held his silence. It didn’t matter that Ren knew he was winning, if only on a mere technicality. Never had such easy victory felt so very hollow.

But even if Ren could have shared such glory with Hux, it wasn’t as if the general would have wanted anyone other than Matt.


End file.
